


Snakebit

by SeventhStrife



Series: Brownham AU's [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Abigail just wants them to stop embarrassing her, Alternate Universe, M/M, Matthew's Got It Bad, One-Shot, Will and Abigail are brother and sister, Will's just confused, also i suck at titles, and she's going off to college, google snakebit, no cannibals mentioned at all, rated for language, you will be underwhelmed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeventhStrife/pseuds/SeventhStrife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this <a href="http://shittyaus.tumblr.com/post/130050756199/flirt-x-bad-boy-aus-maybe>"> post:

“I was hitting on your sister and you punched me in the face. Now you feel bad so you’re taking me to the hospital and I think I’d rather hit on you.”</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Snakebit

**Author's Note:**

> I'm drowning in brownham. Send help. Or fic recs.

In Matthew’s defense, the girl looked so innocent and naive he couldn’t _not_ mess with her; it simply wasn’t his nature to see something pure and not try to corrupt it.

She’s pretty in her plain way, with medium-length dark hair and brown eyes. Her skin is pale, almost shockingly so for August, and the way she clutches her notebook and textbooks to her chest is more telling than her deceivingly calm gaze, flicking across the parking lot with barely concealed impatience.

She’s obviously new, fresh outta high school with a bright future ahead of her. She’s wearing a sweater that proudly proudly states _I ♥ SCSU_ in black and red.

As Matthew pointed out before, he couldn’t _not_ mess with her.

“Hey.”

The girl’s eyes flit to him and she takes him in lightning fast, head to toe, and her lips purse just the slightest bit even as she inclines her head. Matthew can practically hear the warning bells chiming in her mind, the ones that blare: _DANGER! DANGER!_

Matthew fits the profile, he supposes. He doesn’t have anything on him, not even a backpack or pencil in sight to justify him walking around the campus, and his white t-shirt is thin enough that anyone can see his tattoos.

“Hello,” she replies shortly, cautious. Matthew’s grin widens and he mentally shakes his head.

_Rookie mistake,_ he thinks. You _never_ engage a stranger you don’t want harassing you. At this point, Matthew’s doing her a favor. He’s giving her real life-lessons.

Matthew closes the distance, just shy of being directly in her personal space, and causally sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Name’s Matthew,” he introduces himself, cocking his head towards her. “What’s your name?”

The girl looks away uncomfortably and her grip tightens imperceptibly on her books.

“Abigail. Look, I’m not—”

“Abigail,” Matthew echoes. “Haven’t met a lot of Abigails. You’re not from around here are you? Out of state, right?”

“Uh,” Confused brown eyes meet his, curious despite herself. Matthew wants to call her parents and tell them to give it another year before leaving her to fend for herself in the wild. “Yeah. How’d you guess?”

Matthew makes a vague gesture at her. “The look. The books. You practically scream _‘I’m not from around here.’_ ” Matthew’s smile takes a turn for sly. “Luckily, I happen to know the area pretty well. Wouldn’t mind giving you a tour.”

Alarm flashes across her face. “Oh, no—” In the distance, a car door slammed.

“Think nothing of it,” Matthew assure her. He erases the last bit of space between them in a half-second and slung a companionable arm around her shoulders. She tenses immediately but doesn’t move, likely too shocked. Poor little rabbit, already caught in the snare. “Someone as cute as you should have someone showing them around.” Matthew leaned that much closer, delighting in the wariness and the first inklings of fear bleeding onto her expressive features. His voice drops to a murmur. “Otherwise the wolves will gobble you up.”

“Abigail!”

Startled, they both look up to see a man approaching them nearly at a run, clenched fists swinging, pace unhurried but eating the distance swiftly.

“Will—” Abigail manages, but the man—Will—doesn’t slow his pace even when he’s just a foot away and Matthew’s eyes widen, he only has time to think _he’s pretty cute,_ before the man’s fist is swinging, pain explodes on the side of his face, and Matthew staggers back a few steps, cradling his nose as a rush of hot warmth spills down his lips and stains his hands a bright, vibrant red.

_“Will!”_ Abigail’s voice is practically a screech at this point, high and shrill and terrified.

“Did he hurt you?” Will asks, voice hard and firm and just a bit raspy, as if he doesn’t talk very often.

“No, no, we were just talking,” Abigail rushes to tells him. Matthew glances up in time to see  her grab Will by the forearm. Their eyes meet and for a moment, Matthew is quite forgotten, sitting on the asphalt with blood pouring down his face as they stare into each other’s eyes. “I had it under control, okay? I’m _fine.”_

Will stares at her hard for one more long second, as if trying to find the lie in her words, before his shoulders sag and his head falls. A frustrated sigh leaves him and he roughly rubs his eyes, glasses bouncing on his knuckles.

“Sorry—I just—when I saw him—” Will’s eyes fly open and it’s almost comical how fast he spins to face Matthew, eyes wide with shock and worry.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims, taking in the bloody mess that is Matthew’s, face, neck, shirt, and hand. “Fuck. Okay,” and before Matthew can gather himself, can make snide comment or maybe throw a punch himself, Will _rips off his shirt_ , drops to his knees, and bats away Matthew’s hands from his face with gentle, practiced movements.

“Here,” Will says, and he takes the bunched up flannel and presses it gingerly against Matthew’s nostrils, stemming the blood.

Matthew’s so surprised and utterly unprepared for the kindness that he feels himself struck dumb, staring at Will with a blank expression, helplessly noting how the sun makes his dark curls an enticing chocolate, how his ever-moving eyes are the most enchanting shade of deep, dark green he’s ever seen, how Matthew is absurdly grateful he got punched because it got this man to take off a layer of his clothes and bare more of that creamy, tantalizing skin.

“I’m really sorry,” Will tells him, and their eyes meet. Matthew feels the contact like electricity skirting down his spine, like the concentrated energy of a thousand suns igniting him from the inside out. Then Will breaks the contact, alternating between giving his sluggishly bleeding nose attention and his forehead. “That was an overreaction. Although you did kind of deserve it.”

_“Will!”_

Matthew laughs and Will’s lips twitch into a smile.

“Yeah, no, he’s right,” Matthew agrees, grinning and utterly uncaring for the sharp flash of pain it rewards him. Matthew’s eyes raised to meet Abigail’s, hovering uncertainly. “Sorry kid. I can never stop myself from messing with newbies.”

“Um, it’s fine,” Abigail absolves him, sounding more bemused than anything.

Will raises a brow. “Maybe this’ll teach you to think twice before harassing someone for your entertainment.”

_He sounds like a cop,_ Matthew thinks. He pictures Will in the uniform, spreading Matthew’s legs, patting him down. He swallows, smirks.

“Nah,” he shrugs. “Never was good at learning my lesson.”

“I bet,” Will replies dryly. He gently removes his bloody shirt from Matthew’s face and lightly traces his fingers along the sides and bridge of his nose. Matthew winces but even though he doesn’t make a sound, Will still frowns.

“Doesn’t feel broken,” he mutters almost to himself. “But still…”

Determination settles across his features and Will rearranges the shirt in his hands to a clean spot and presses it back against Matthew’s nose.

“Here, hold this,” he instructs, and Matthew does. Will stands and offers his hand, and Matthew wishes he could preserve this moment in amber for eternity, this image of Will, handsome and silhouetted by the sunlight, offering Matthew his hand.

Matthew slides his hand into Will’s and savors every second, the calluses, the dryness of his palm, the overwhelming warmth that feels like a brand against his skin.

When they’re both standing, Will sweeps him with a look, as if worried Matthew will collapse back to the ground, before faceing Abigail.

“Can we take a rain check on lunch? I want to take him to the hospital just to be sure.”

Abigail nods quickly, no doubt glad they won’t be making a spectacle of themselves in front of her new school. Matthew thinks to protest but decides against it in a heartbeat. It gives him a reason to see Will for just that much longer, gives him more time to come up with a way to see him again.

“Yeah, no, that’s fine. I need to talk to my counselor about some of my classes anyways.”

Will nods, then looks contrite. “We can try for dinner? Tonight.”

Abigail smiles indulgently and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. That’s sound good.”

“All right. Okay. Good.” Will’s eyes dart to Matthew and back to Abigail. “I’ll call you,” he faces Matthew and gestures towards the parking lot, where his car—a station wagon—is idling, keys still in the ignition.

Matthew follows Will across the lot and into his car, noting that it smells strongly of dog.

“Pets?” Matthew asks, plucking a long black hair from his seat once he’s settled. The shirt pressed to his face muffles his voice slightly.

Will glances over as he pulls away and flushes just very slightly. “Yeah. Dogs, actually. I’ve got a few.”

“How many?”

“Seven.”

Matthew laughs. “I bet it drives your wife crazy.”

“No wife,” Will replies, shifting slightly. Matthew waves his hand dismissively, a cautious hope blooming within his chest.

“Wife, girlfriend, boyfriend—potayto, potahto,” Matthew says, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, well. None of those. Just me and the dogs.”

Caution is completely overwhelmed by pleasure and satisfaction and Matthew lowers the dirty shirt to his lap, smile turning lecherous as he takes in the length of Will.

“Really?” he drawls, with enough insinuation in his tone that Will chances another glance at him. “That’s a real shame, Mister…?”

“Graham. Will Graham,” Will answers automatically.

_“Well,_ Mr. Graham, I find it hard to believe there’s no one waiting at home for you.”

“Believe it,” Will responds, exiting onto a busy street. “I’m not good with people.” Will blinks then, brows furrowing as he stares ahead.

“Are you... _flirting_ with me?”

Matthew grins. “Depends. Are you interested?”

Will makes an amused sound, seemingly bewildered. “I’m...I don’t know what I am. Confused? I just met you today, and you were hitting on my sister.”

“And then you punched me in the face,” Matthew reminds him.

Will smiles and shakes his head exasperatedly. “And now I’m taking you to the hospital; doesn’t sound very romantic.”

“I’d say you got the blood pumping.”

“Oh my God,” Will looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh although the smile he’s trying to hide behind his hand is telling. He flicks a look at Matthew, entertained despite himself. “You’re crazy. What’s your name?”

“Matthew. Matthew Brown.”

“Well, Mr. Brown, how about we focus on your possibly broken nose and worry about the candlelit dinners later?”

Matthew grins, delighted as he presses Will’s shirt to his nose once more and breathes in the earthy, slightly sweaty smell of Will.

“Yes, _sir.”_

Because this part of Minnesota is rich with Catholics, the hospital is too. Matthew passes countless crucifixes and portraits of saints kneeled in prayer and thinks back to his earlier years, bouncing around foster care, and truly seeing what good faith did for anybody.

The emergency room is thankfully downsized in religious paraphernalia. They have to suffer and abysmally long wait that Matthew occupies by whispering about the people in the waiting room in Will’s ear— _Hundred bucks says that guy broke his arm jacking off. Did you see her skirt? So last season. Dare me to steal that guards gun?_

Will spends the entire time with lips pressed tight, face red, trying his damndest not to laugh out loud and probably rupturing something. When they’re finally ready to be seen, Matthew is wearing a smug look and Will is absolutely not looking at anyone, his shoulders shaking minutely and teeth sunk deeply in his bottom lip.

The nurse who looks him over declares him fine after a few minutes of prodding and questions. Will visibly relaxes at hearing nothing is broken. His face is cleaned, he’s bandaged, and they’re outside in minutes.

Will offers him a ride home, but Matthew turns him down.

“I’m not too far from here,” which is a lie, but Matthew likes to walk.

Will offers his hand, smiling wryly. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Brown, given the circumstances.”

Matthew takes his hand because how could he not, and shakes. But when Will makes to let go, Matthew tightens his grip.

“You know, I was thinking, and while you’re committed to this Good Samaritan act, you still haven’t given me your phone number. Purely so I can contact you if there’s been a complication, of course,” he says, lightly touching his nose.

Will sees right through him, but it’s not like Matthew had been trying for subtle. He arches a brow at him and simply stares, probably hoping to unnerve him, or give him the chance to back out, but Matthew is disinclined to either and simply meets the look in kind. Will frowns.

“You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

Will looks away and back, uncomfortable. “I meant what I said, earlier, you know? I’m not good with people. Relationships even more so. I’m—unstable. Nightmares, trouble communicating, I don’t make a lot of eye contact. Sometimes I sleepwalk.”

Will doesn’t look ashamed as he speaks, looking just over Matthew’s shoulder. He’s simply stating the facts baldly and plainly so Matthew understands up front exactly what he’s really asking for.

In answer, Matthew uses the muscles he’s sunk so much time into and yanks Will forward. He gets one wonderful glimpse of Will’s completely open, completely surprised expression, before he cradles his cheek and kisses him very softly.

He can feel the sharp breath Will takes through his nose, entire body rigid. Matthew moves to soothe him, wrapping an arm around him and caressing his back. They’re of a height, and Matthew imagines them as two puzzle pieces, slotted together and made blissfully made whole. He imagines other ways they could fit together and his grip around Will tightens, turns just that bit possessive. At the touch, Will relaxes in increments and kisses Matthew back, slowly, hesitantly.

Matthew feels almost richly triumphant as he delights in the deceptive softness of the lips against his, in the hand that comes to rest on his forearm, squeezing lightly.

The kiss lasts only a few moments, but they are exquisite.

They separate, foreheads resting against the other, and there is silence broken only by the passing cars, the wind through the trees.

“This is a Catholic hospital,” Will reminds him. “They’re probably taking our picture right now and banning us from the premises.”

The thought makes Matthew smirk and lean back far enough that Will can see his expression.

“We should really shock ‘em. Go back inside and fuck right there in the waiting room. To make a statement, of course.”

Will huffs a laugh and nods. “Of course.” He clears his throat and takes a step away, finally breaking their contact, and holds out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

Matthew hands it over, watching Will with satisfaction as he inputs his number. Will hesitates just before handing it back over, biting his lip as their fingers brush when Matthew takes his phone back. He watches as Matthew saves the number, adds the contact name _♥Will♥_ , and shakes his head.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” he asks, joking.

Matthew looks up and their eyes catch.

“No. You won’t,” he promises, the words heavy and strangely intimate.

Will shivers and a slow smile crawls across Matthew’s face, sleek and sly.

**Author's Note:**

> We all know that Matt's a huge dork and would unashamedly use heart emoji's.


End file.
